But Zarah, exceeding proud of the European blood in her veins, had no wish to wed at an age when European girls were still at school, neither had she the slightest intention of becoming one of the four wives which Mohammed the Prophet in his wisdom, knowing the weakness of character and want of self-control in man, allotted unto the male sex. So that Yussuf sighed in relief as each suitor, blindfolded, was led back across the path by which, blindfolded, he had come, and, laden with gifts, set upon the homeward track.
Actively, he knew he could do nothing in revenge until Fate whispered in his ear, but in a hundred ways, a hundred times a day, he made the girl’s life a burden to her.
He refused to cover his face, which was no fit sight for man or woman, and took to haunting her, craftily withal, so that it seemed that by mere chance his shadow fell so often upon the path she trod.
If she passed in a crowd he picked out her footfall; when the place was full of the sound of the neighing of horses and the barking of dogs, he could hear her coming, and, quick and silent as a beast of prey, sliding, slipping, holding by his hands, would reach the spot where, knowing the turns and twists of every path, he knew that she must pass; he would stand or sit without movement, staring at her out of sightless orbits, whilst she, believing him ignorant of her presence, would pass swiftly, silently, with averted head and fingers spread against misfortune.
He stood close behind her in the shadows, wrapped in the Bedouin cloak, as she leaned on the wall watching the fight between the dogs, one of which had been accepted as a gift by the rejected suitor who, at that moment, made his adieux to the Sheikh in the Hall of Judgment.
In the depths of the girl’s startling eyes shone a merciless light; an amused smile curved the beautiful, scarlet mouth; she clapped her hands covered in jewels, and, jogged by Fate, laughed aloud at the despair of the groom who had allowed the dogs to escape from the kennels.
Jaw locked in jaw, bleeding, exhausted, the dogs were fighting to the death, but they sprang apart when the sound of the girl’s laughter was brought to them on the evening breeze and crouched, glaring upwards, ruffs on end, growling, the anger of the moment forgotten in their hatred of the woman.